Humiliated Ch. 01

Tracy had one too many cool glasses of Chablis, while dining with friends. They weren't ladies that lunched, though they did meet up for the occasional dinner together. Since university they kept in touch, attending weddings, and the usual social gatherings, whenever possible.

The others seemed to have far more interesting lives, though she knew they weren't all fun and games. Margaret's funeral had brought it home to them all that life was too short, to put off that elusive something.

"Do tell, what is it you have always wanted to do, though never managed to achieve?" Irene asked. Her usual noble, nasal accent, made the question sound like a demand.

She was referring to their earlier conversations, concerning Margaret's early demise. They had moved on to the inevitable subject of sex and the lack of it, so the question sounded less than innocent. Especially as they were about to pick dare cards, from an empty desert bowl.

"I'm not about to give you a clue as to my dare," Tracy pouted. "You'll just have to pick one and hope for the best," she smiled.

As usual Penelope had to be courageous and so, she picked the first card, laying it face down on the table. The others followed suit.

"Well?" Irene asked. She was eager to turn hers over, obviously keen, to see what she was committed to.

"Let's, turn them over together," Bernice suggested.

On the count of three they turned the card and quietly read the instructions. No-one gasped in horror, though Tracy felt queasy. Each had thought up a dare while visiting the bathroom. The attendant wrote them out, to keep them anonymous, as they knew each others hand writing.

Tracy wanted to say she couldn't do this. It was just too naughty. It might even be dangerous. Having read the card several times, she passed it the left, for the others to read. They were interrupted by the waiter re-filling their glasses. This time Tracy didn't cover the wine glass with a hand. Instead, she gratefully accepted, and took a gulp of the cool liquid.

"I can't see you carrying this out," Irene smirked, while fanning the card. The others laughed along with her.

"I will! A dare is a dare, and I accept the challenge," Tracy admonished them. She didn't feel so confident inside. She quaked, with stomach churning fear. It was a surprise to feel excited too.

"You can be the first then," Irene stated. "We all go along, to see you carry out the task. To protect you, of course, though nothing will happen," she artfully smiled.

The others took over planning, before she had a chance to think of an excuse to back out. Her life was boring, she conceded, so maybe this would add a little spice to it. She told herself that was wrong, not spice, but excitement. With her friends along, nothing would happen. She would be perfectly safe, of course she would.

On the drive to Irene's home she felt excited. A little aroused too! She put it down to the adventure, nothing to do with a perverse sexual anticipation.

Irene borrowed her maid's car, which was an old Honda saloon. It would hardly be suitable, to show up in a brand new Cadillac. Penelope picked the outfit. They giggled at her while she stared at it in a mirror.

"You bitch! It's worse than I thought," Tracy exclaimed. Even she was surprised that she didn't reject it. The exhilaration in the room was electric, infecting them all with excitement. Her friends had taken a day off from busy executive positions, so she felt obliged to carry out the dare. Or at least, she told herself that.

In the hotel suit they prepared her make-up. She had her nails done, not at the usual boutique, for it would be horrid to be recognised there. They tied her blonde hair into pig tails, while she mildly protested that they were going too far.

Tracy giggled with them. She was a thirty-three old woman, wearing an outfit unsuitable for when she was sixteen. The mirror image of a dumb blonde was effective. Driving the battered old car would fit the scene they had set-up perfectly.

"Come on, practise the part," Bernice chided her.

The three of them stared at her, waiting for the image to come alive. They had all tried their hand on the college stage, that's where they first met. That had been more than a few years ago, and it had been a failure then.

Tracy twirled the short, flowery dress and giggled, in a high pitched whine. "I'm so silly, I forgot my purse," she chirped.

"Well done!" Bernice laughed, while clapping her hands in appreciation of the performance. The others laughed along, adding their own comments.

"I always thought you were a dumb blonde," Irene smirked.

"Thank you, ma'am. I hope to be a bimbo, when I'm old like you, ma'am," Tracy replied, with a scathing look directed at Irene.

"Careful ladies, don't forget, we all have to go through with a dare," Bernice reminded them. Good old Bernice was the sensible one as usual. The same age as the others, yet usually the one to bring a focus, and a sense of decorum to their little group.

"Come on then, young girl, your audience awaits your entrance," Irene said, pushing her toward the door.

"OK! One more drink, then the adventure is on," Penelope announced.

"Sorry, miss, Angel will be a good girl, and do as she's told," Tracy said, with a convincing girly whine.

They laughed along with her, and each hugged her.

"I'm proud of my little darling," Irene said, and kissed her on the cheek.

She meant it too! Tracy wasn't used to being the centre of attention, so she started to enjoy it. Having Irene praise her was a surprise and heartening.

The shiny black Lexus, with blacked out windows, followed closely behind the Honda. They turned out of the hotel car park, toward the area all agreed would be perfect for their game. The neighbourhood wasn't up market, or too down at heel either.

Tracy turned into the assigned gas station, and sat in the car for a moment or two. Her friends would guess she was having second thoughts. Checking her face in the mirror, she recognised a look of fear in her eyes.

"Get a grip, girl," she said, out loud. She got out of the car, trying to keep the hem under control. Lifting the nozzle with both hands meant letting it swirl around her thighs. Damn! The Honda was low down, so she had to bend, when opening the little filling hatch.

Unused to filling up a car with fuel, meant it was difficult to co-ordinate the whole process. She had parked too close and had to bend forward, to watch the gauge. If the cost was too much, the guy wouldn't co-operate. The dials seemed to rotate so rapidly! She clicked off the gun to put it back in the machine, with several attempts needed.

Tracy hadn't been able to practise filling up, as there weren't any gas stations that allowed filling, without paying first. Using a credit card was out of the question.

Walking up to the pay station she kept her head down. It was one thing being praised by her friends, yet another, expecting to fool a guy in there. They had chosen well. The lighting was poor, so the old guy probably wouldn't notice her age. He would be too busy looking at her legs and cleavage.

This thought brought on a charge of embarrassment, making her falter. She saw a shadow behind the counter and looked away. "Sorry, I forgot my purse," she said, as rehearsed. A quaver, added a touch of authenticity to the girly voice.

In a panic she quickly fluttered out of the small store, back to the car. She bent over, rummaging around for money, knowing there was none. Leaning over the seat she did the same. There was enough junk to rifle through. Somehow she felt more in control, wiggling her ass at the guy; if he was watching the performance.

It was all a part of the dare, she reminded herself. Distract him, so he didn't look at her face. Excite him a little, to get his co-operation, but not enough to get into trouble. They had briefed her well, only she still felt embarrassed. After all, she was flaunting her body at a stranger.

As she walked back in, the sense of power over a man, from using feminine wiles, evaporated. She looked like a dumb blonde, and felt like one too.

"I really am a silly girl. I've left my money at home," she said, sounding like a pathetic young thing. The confused state she was in, added to her sounding like a stupid blonde.

Tracy was scared, aroused, and way out of her comfort zone. All she could think of was running away and hiding, from her friends and failure. If she hadn't been so scared she might have made the move toward the door, and escape from the torment.

"You had better sit there, while I call the police," the guy said.

In a daze she stumbled to a chair, beside the counter. Even in her confused state she heard from the tone of voice, this was no old guy. She dare not look at him, or he might see she was no teenager.

"Please! There's no need to involve the police," she blurted out. She was ready to explain it was all a joke, only just holding back. She had to brazen it out, or lose the dare. If he insisted on calling the police, she would have to capitulate, and confess.

"Can't you trust me? I'll bring back the money and something extra for you! Honest!" she pleaded.

"My uncle owns this group of gas stations, and left strict instructions. Got to report it, it's theft you know," he explained, with a shrug of his shoulders.

While he spoke, she looked out the window, across the oily tarmac. Her friends had gone! If the police turned up, what was she going to say? She really couldn't pay up now! The thought of being dragged off by the police, to be charged with theft, was horrendous.

"Please, I'll do anything to avoid the police," Tracy whined. She couldn't believe the earnest tone of voice she managed to conjure up. It sounded genuine, and it was.

"You had better think twice, before making such an offer," he told her.

"I mean it, honest," she said. She moved close to him, putting a finger over the phone cradle. "No police and I'll do what you want, please, sir," she begged. There was a confused idea forming in her head, about flashing her breasts at him. Surely that would be enough, together with a promise to return with the cash.

"I'll show you, I really don't have any money on me," she offered, looking coy.

"OK. Show me," he demanded.

He had taken the hint, so maybe she could regain some control. Taking a deep breath, she pulled at the neckline. It was too tight to pull her breasts out. Even if she did, there was no way she could pull the bra from them. It would also be a struggle to get them pushed back in, leaving her exposed, if someone walked in the store.

He held the phone as though it were a weapon. "It's up to you," he said, in an offhand manner.

"Wait, please, sir," she croaked, from a dry throat. Pleading with a young guy, to let her expose her breasts, and calling him sir, was humiliating. It left her feeling vulnerable and stupid.

She should have been dominating the situation, and using her feminine charms to get what she wanted. It would have worked, if the old guy had been there. This handsome young guy wasn't so impressed with her body. She had to admit, she wasn't eighteen any more. She was still attractive, as a nice petite blonde with large breasts, so surely she could win him round.

Gritting her teeth, with determination, she grabbed the hem with both hands. Showing him her voluptuous body would surely distract him, from phoning anyone. She must prove to her friends she was worth something. She had to prove to them, and herself, she was still attractive enough to win the dare.

Before she lost confidence she hiked up the dress, over her head, to stand before him in her underwear. The set was pink, new, and sexy. It held her breasts in a provocative cleavage. The pair of high cut panties was sexy, yet covered her decently.

She still couldn't look at him. She found herself hoping this stranger, approved of her body. Her chest heaved from deep breaths. Was it fear of rejection, or from arousal, she couldn't tell.

"Turn around, let me take a good look at you," he told her.

Looking up at a security mirror, she got a good look at him, for the first time. Tracy quietly gasped. No! She had hoped to see him interested in her, maybe even a little aroused. Instead, she recognised him! It was Nigel, a friend of her step-son, from college. He was a young eighteen year old, who had visited her home on a number of occasions.

Her knees almost buckled. She shivered with fear. Her mind went blank from an intense feeling of shock. This young man, a friend of her son, was checking her out! She desperately needed to wrap both arms around her exposed body, but couldn't move.

"You're cold, I'll have to warm you up," he teased.

With her eyes tightly closed, she didn't see him move close behind her. She felt his arms wrap around her body. He held her tight, squeezing her breasts. She wanted to yell at him, to leave her alone.

She wasn't a silly, young blonde, to be bullied into doing what he wanted. She opened her mouth to speak, only to croak something unintelligible. She couldn't get the awful thought out of her mind, that she had proved herself to be a stupid bimbo. This young guy saw her as a foolish blonde, from having been ensnared so easily.

"Nice tits," Nigel whispered in her ear. He pulled the bra up, exposing them.

No! Tracy silently cried out. Her son's friend was mauling her breasts. She dare not turn around, to let Nigel discover who she was. He would be sure to brag about it in college. Her husband would find out, his son would treat her with complete disdain, and she would be kicked out of their home.

Nigel bent her forward, over the counter. He let go of her breasts, letting his weight hold her down. He pulled out his cock and pulled aside the crotch of her panties. Two fingers, roughly delved between her legs, rubbing her, pressing her sex. It was an inattentive fore-play. He just wanted to take her.

He pushed up with a strong pair of legs. The muscles bulged and tightened as he thrust into her.

Tracy wasn't ready for it, though her body was. Her sex was open and accessible. She lifted her head, letting out a throaty moan. He hadn't excited her; she had done that to herself. The humiliation of having this young guy, a friend of the family, take her, was exciting. She was being fucked in a store, where anyone could walk in, and catch them at it like rutting animals.

The moan of protest crystallised into a deep, throaty groan from pleasure. She was being fucked hard, by a young buck. She had been forced into it, unwillingly taken by him. The pressure in her head was strong enough to override all reservations, all her inhibitions, every moral fibre had been stripped away.

Tracy pushed back against him, finding his rhythm, helping him to fuck her. She lifted her head, wailing lightly. An orgasm was rocking through her body, vibrating her nerve endings with a message, yes, yes, yes!

So sensitised was her sex, she felt him cum, the first time that had happened. She felt his cock expand a little more, felt it spasm, and imagined his thick virile sperm shoot inside, right up inside, filling her up. A flash of lightening, like a summer storm, struck out from her stomach, burning her breasts, searing the pleasure points in her brain. Following close behind the intense wave of pleasure, came a roll of thunder. A second orgasm rumbled through her body, less intense, yet lasting longer.

The intensity of the climax left her weak and fragile.

Nigel slapped her ass. "You've paid for the gas. Didn't take you long to fuck me either. You're an accomplished whore, I'm impressed," Nigel said, and slapped her ass again. "Come on, get your clothes back on," he demanded.

Tracy felt as though the slaps were a punishment, for her disgusting behaviour. She hadn't been a silly, naughty girl she had been a dirty whore. She had paid for the gas with her body. Her son's young friend had fucked her! He had used her like a whore! The humiliation was deep, and threatened to overwhelm her.

Nigel slapped her ass again, harder this time, wanting to get her going. He knew the local traffic pattern well, and customers would soon start to arrive.

Tracy silently sobbed, hiding her face on the counter under her long blonde hair.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," Irene cajoled her friend. She couldn't use gentle tactics, for someone had pulled up at a pump. She grabbed Tracy's arm and pulled her toward the door. Irene marched her friend to the car, and dumped the lump of a woman, into the passenger seat.

"I'll go back for the dress," she said. Tracy didn't hear, for she had withdrawn into a safe little shell, trying to ignore what she had done.

Irene marched back into the store. She picked up the dress, which had been dumped on the floor. She held out her hand. "The security tape!" she demanded.

"All ready, as agreed," Nigel smiled. "Hey! Where's the extra money?" he shouted, to her retreating back. "You owe ten for gas," he complained.

"You owe ten for the fuck. We'll call it quits," Irene laughed.

Nigel smiled, with the knowledge there was a copy. It had been a coincidence he recognised the woman. Or, should he call her the victim. As predicted by that callous bitch, Irene, the woman had been easily manipulated, when knowing what buttons to press. Irene certainly knew all about her weaknesses.

He knew who she was, and would make use of that information. If he could be as clever as Irene, he would make a great deal of use out of it.

Irene cut her laugh short, as she left the store. Revealing her real intentions, for organising the crude dare game, would be a wonderful moment. Now wasn't the right time. She straightened her face, trying to look concerned and disgusted with her friend.

Irene threw the dirty, trampled dress onto the back seat. Driven across town, in her underwear, would be just a minor irritation for Tracy, compared with what was to come. She couldn't take Tracy back home, in this state, so naturally they drove to the hotel room.

"Don't worry Tracy, you're safe with me," she lied.